//------------------------------// // Forming Connections // Story: The King Is Dead, Long Live The Emperor! // by Bucking Nonsense //------------------------------// "Where did you learn to fight like that?" Ruggiero chuckled as he watched the guards gather the remains of the wights and toss them into a bonfire in the middle of the street. While he felt kind of bad about the fact that they weren't getting a burial (They'd given him a decent fight, especially their leader), but wights had a bad of habit of coming back from the dead over and over until their bodies were either beheaded or burned. While beheading might have proven effective in permanently removing the threat, it would not have properly dispelled their noxious aura of dark magic. Hence, a funeral pyre for the lot of them. The leader of the squadron had implied that, were he to ask the wights before their demise, they'd have found burning better than remaining an abomination even a moment longer. A pity though: Bertrand, the leader of the wights, had proven a spectacularly devious opponent. He'd used tricks that Ruggiero had not even imagined before: A wire that connected his sword to his bracer had made it difficult to disarm the wight during the battle. When Rug had succeeded in cutting the wire, then sent the sword flying, Bert had drawn a pair of daggers cunningly hidden within the feathers of his wings... and used them in tandem with a third dagger, clutched in the prehensile hairs in the tuft at the tip of his tail. That had proven to be the most exciting part of the duel. Obviously, Ruggiero had won, but it had been a close thing. Honestly, having seen how spectacular a fighter his foe had been in undeath, the youngster wished from the bottom of his heart that he might have been able to fight Bertrand when he'd still been among the living... Oh well, can't have everything in life. Turning towards the leader of the squadron, a lieutenant by the name of Storm Cloud, and grinning, he answered her question with the most honest response he could give: "By fighting!" Startled, the blue pegasus mare asked, "Fighting what?" After a moment, Ruggiero began reciting the list from memory, "Gnolls, goblins, trolls, bugbears..." ------------------------------------------ "I think it would be best if we adjourned for the night," Pan said after a moment's thought. "There's been a lot revealed tonight, and we'll be quite busy in the morning. I'm still formulating a plan. By sunrise, I'll have it ready, and we can begin. For right now, though, I think a night's sleep is in order for everypony. We'll reconvene an hour before sunrise." The ponies gathered, and the hippogriff, all nodded in understanding. Turning towards Ironwood, he added, "And I'll need a word with you, if you don't mind." -------------------------------------------- "...wights, zombies, ghouls, ghasts..." ------------------------------------------ "Are you an angel?" Rosy Hue gasped at the stallion's sudden question. She'd been helping the old physician with bandaging the stranger's burns, humming softly as she worked, when he'd suddenly turned and looked right at her, and spoke for the first time since she'd found him. Giggling nervously, she replied, "Um, no, I'm just an ordinary mare." Well, at least it seemed that the pain-killing tonic she'd poured down his throat earlier was working, else he'd likely be screaming right now. The physician had been mortified at the stallion's condition. While much of the damage was superficial, there were several deep burns that would cause him terrible pain every time he moved, or talked, or even breathed, even long after they healed. "Oh," the stallion said, then after a moment, he gave a sad, weak chuckle and added, "I should have known better: No angel would ever come for a fool like me..." Before Rosy could ask what he meant by that, the pony drifted back into sleep. --------------------------------------- "...dire bears, owlbears, werebears, carebears, bearbears..." --------------------------------------- Lord Fly turned towards the sound of furious blows against the secret door of his laboratory. For a moment, a trill of fear shot through his body: He'd returned to his secret research facility in the first time since Sombra's conquest, and had expected to see an emaciated, near-starved hippogriff in the cell housing his favorite prisoner. Instead, there was an open door, the lock clearly having been picked. Written on the wall of the cell was a very simple, and very worrying, message. 'I SHALL RETURN' The fact that it was written in blood was just a little over the top, though. Still, he calmed himself, then shut and locked the cell. Lord Fly seriously doubted that Xenophon would be so polite as to knock, and the fact that there was no calls of 'Open Up In The Name Of The Law' meant that it was not likely to be the city guard, coming to take him away. That meant that whoever was beating at the door was someone who was supposed to know about this facility... Still, better not to take any chances. Approaching the warded door, he looked through the peephole... and saw a burning pony with her head hanging at an unhealthy angle to her neck. Well, that was the third strangest thing to ever find its way to his doorstep. Opening the door, Fly asked, "Dream Charmer?" The pony's head flopped slightly as the pony tried to nod, still doing a splendid impression of a bonfire. Looking the still blazing pony up and down, he admitted, "I've seen worse. Come in." --------------------------------------- "...giant bees, giant caveswallows, giant wasps, giant rockodiles, a demonic duck...." --------------------------------------- "Thank you, your highness," Ironwood said, rubbing at his now unblemished cheek. Nodding, Celestia said, "Think nothing of it. A pardon is the least we could do, especially given that you've agreed to take part in tomorrow's expedition into the royal catacombs." Ironwood chuckled, then admitted, "It's not a big deal. It isn't like I'd planned on doing anything tomorrow. I've no family to go out and celebrate my sudden freedom with, and I fear that my friends will not be likely to have anything to do with me, anymore. A murder conviction, either genuine or the result of a noble's bribes, tends to have that effect." Golden Tone, walking up to the stallion, said, "Their loss. I need a good meal before I go to bed. I'm certain that there's something left in the kitchens, even at this hour. Care to join me?" With a surprisingly dapper bow, Ironwood said, "I'd be delighted." -------------------------------------- "...girallons, rakshasas, gorgons, ettins, a mutated loaf of bread..." ------------------------------------- "We're not really having another meeting in the morning, are we?" Chuckling, Pan admitted, "No, not really." Luna was a very sharp pony, he had to admit. "I'll need you to do some dream walking tonight, first into my head, then into everypony else's. I am almost certain that there are spies in the palace, and even with you and your sister negating potential scrying spells, we can't be absolutely certain that the enemy isn't listening in through non-magical means when we have meetings like that last one. But our dreams should prove secure against intrusion or observation. If the Circle is listening to our mundane conversations, they're about to learn of a pair of wonderful concepts that would have 'officially' been invented three centuries from now in the original timeline." Luna, an amused expression on her face, asked, "And what concept would that be?" A devious grin crossing his face, Pan said, "Counterintelligence and strategic misinformation." ------------------------------------- "...hill giants, mountain giants, forest giants, midget giants, giant midgets..." ------------------------------------ "A pity about your harem," Dream Charmer said, still admiring her restored health and beauty in a nearby mirror. With a shrug, Lord Fly nudged one of the dessicated corpses left by Dream Charmer's 'meal' with one hoof, then said, "It hardly matters: I needed a good excuse for my seldom being seen to leave my estate, and having scads of beautiful, nubile beauties awaiting my 'attentions' each night made for a good excuse. That, and what stallion wouldn't enjoy having thirty mares to choose from each night? I will miss the fun, but I won't miss the taste of papaya seed extract with my meals." Sticking out is tongue and making a disgusted expression, he added, "Unpleasant, but necessary: The last thing I needed was for a brat to pop out of one of them, distracting me from my research." With a surprisingly girlish giggle, the lich asked,"You know, I've always wondered, between your duties, your research, and your... extra-curricular activities, when have you ever had the time to sleep?" With a half-smile, Lord Fly said, "Trade secrets, love." Walking closer, he said, "Now, about my fee: I've gotten rather used to having five mares in my bed each night, and it seems that it is unlikely to happen tonight or anytime in the near future. Think you can do a better job tonight than a quintet can?" With a devilish smile, Lady Wasp pulled him close and said, "Well, it has been a while since you and I have had a good romp, and getting such a nice... meal has left me all hot and bothered. Let's find out." ------------------------------------ "...and a medium-sized dragon," Ruggiero finished. Storm Cloud's jaw was hanging open, simply stunned. From the description that the kit had just given, he'd fought, within his fourteen years, more foes than a veteran brigade! "When did you have the time to do all of this?" Shrugging, Ruggiero said, "Five times, every day, my father would have me go into an arena and fight something. Or several somethings. Sometimes with my claws tied behind my back or I'd be blindfolded. Or both. A couple of times, I was also on fire." Anger slowly flickering within her, the mare asked, "Was he trying to get you killed?" With a shrug, the youngster admitted, "Kinda. Dad told me that either I had to be really, really strong, or I'd be better off dead. He needed a strong heir to succeed him, and if I wasn't up to it, well, he could always have another son." Storm Cloud, aghast, asked, "And your mother?" "She supplied the monsters," the kit said simply. After a moment of stunned silence, Storm Cloud said, "Kit, you're coming with us to the barracks. You can bunk with the squadron tonight. In the morning, I'm going to have a few words with the chancellor, and we'll see what we can do about better living arrangements. I don't know who your father is, or what sort of madness possessed him, but I promise you, you don't have to fight monsters any more." Looking a little worried, Ruggiero asked, "But... what if I want to fight monsters?" "Like I said, you won't 'have' to," the mare admitted after a moment. She'd forgotten, folks with griffin blood in them tended to be a bit of the violent side. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing: These days, with all the monsters, fiends, and worse that kept popping up, someone willing and able to fight against impossible odds with a smile on their face could be an asset, properly directed. "But there's plenty of places in Equestria that could use an experienced monster hunter. Pretty lucrative trade, all things considered. But no one is going to force you to do that unless you want to." Suddenly quite chipper, Ruggiero said, "Yay!" For all the world, he sounded like a young colt who had just been told that, yes, he was getting a new toy for his birthday. The fact that he was fourteen, half of Storm Cloud's age (Merciful heavens, she felt so old all of a sudden, admitting that, especially she was still unwed...), but still acting like a youth of five, made the mare worry. He'd apparently spent most of his life fighting monsters every single day. Beyond that, had his parents taught him anything else? Reading? Writing? Arithmetic? Right from wrong? ...Probably not.